Fate Fell Short
by sleepyaugustus
Summary: Annabeth is dragged to a party by her best friend, Thalia. Getting all kinds of wasted and sleeping with some cute guy was not the expected outcome at all, but when she is left with a little stick containing two pink lines, she has to prepare herself for the next nine months of torturous teen pregnancy :: might be re-uploaded after you people learn to get over yourselves


**Disclaimer: I do not own the Percy Jackson and the Olympians series, or the Heroes of Olympus series. All rights go to those deserving  
Warning: Rated M. Contains mature content: drugs, underage alcohol consumption, intimacy and parties.**

* * *

Annabeth didn't plan on showing up to the party.

Figuring it would be the cliché high school kicker all kids threw when their parents were out of town, she resigned herself to a night spent studying in her bedroom with the curtains drawn and blankets up and over her shoulders like a cape—the routine for most weekends. When Annabeth's best friend met her by her car after school that day, Thalia made a point to beg her to come along, and Annabeth thought she might even have gotten down on her knees and _rolled over_ had she not been in a rush to get home and start getting ready. Obviously Annabeth declined, stating it sounded like more trouble than it was worth. Because when did high school parties ever end without serious physical-sometimes-mental damage to kids like her? Not in any teen flick_ she'd_ seen. And she certainly wasn't reckless enough to _purposely _engage herself in that disaster.

She'd left the school that afternoon with a resolve to make herself a cup of hot chocolate once she got home. All topics of conversation over the duration of the day had somehow managed to cover whether _so-and-so_ was showing up to the huge rager at the Stoll's house tonight, or whether _whom _was going with _whom. _And honestly, she was getting more than just sick of it.

But it was when she got home, backpack heavy with unfinished homework and tired feet aching after a grueling track practice, she found her parents gussying up for a night out. It wasn't an uncommon sight in the Chase household, and while her father had looked awfully cute with his hair all gelled back—excluding a swooped cowlick that jutted back from the crown of his head—she was surprised to hear she'd been recruited for babysitting her two younger brothers.

Embarrassment coated over her like a pink second skin as she came to the realization that her parents had simply expected her to be available for the night—which, to be fair, wasn't all that out of the ordinary. Despite this, she began to question herself. Was she really so predictable, that on a Friday, they knew she'd be home with nothing better to do?

It wasn't her fault that decent colleges would expect no less than a perfect transcript and above average grades to even begin considering acceptance. Which meant that she needed to spend more of her time studying for her SATs than she did out boozing with her friends. Was that really such a lame thing?—and yes, she knew the answer to that, but that didn't mean she was _happy_ about it.

Her friends had always told her she was a goody-two shoes, not that she particularly disagreed with them. She knew she was a nerd; it was something she had come to terms with a while ago and didn't harbor any sour feelings over.

But there was something about her _parents_ having a more active social life than herself that bit at her, or at least she thought it should. Part of her was content to stay home with Matthew and Bobby, choking down pizza and Diet Coke while watching the newest installment of Adventure Time. But then there was the rest of her, who was embarrassed, and dumbstruck, and realizing that she should probably reassess the quality of her life a little bit. So with a reluctant sigh, Annabeth told her mom and dad to call the middle-school-aged boy down the street—she had plans for the night.

The look of surprise she was met with certainly didn't help her embarrassment, but she refused to change her mind. There were some things in life she figured she'd just have to grit her teeth and get over with, and whether that included waking up hungover in a stranger's garage tomorrow morning, she didn't know.

Calling Thalia before she gave herself a chance to back out, Annabeth tugged through the clothes in her closet in search of something to wear that was at least mildly not-atrocious. The inevitability of the night ending in regret was somewhat nerve-wracking, but Annabeth derived a sick kind of high from the feeling. At this moment, all she could think of was _proving_ something. Not only to her parents, but to _herself_, she needed to prove that she could be more than the antisocial introvert she had supposedly become.

Thalia was excited—and very surprised, for that matter. Annabeth's opinion of parties and other banalities of teenage life alike was well known among their group of friends. To _demand_ Thalia to come around and chauffeur her to the nearest impending mistake? ...Well.

Unexpected.

She liked the sound of it.

Her self-pride could easily be her downfall one day—cough, _tonight_—but she couldn't help to think she needed this. If not for its opportunity of completing teenage rites of passage, but the possibility of even having a bit of fun was enticing. And that was what she kept telling herself in moments of doubt, which would be a lie to say came few and far between because would it be so wrong for her to admit she was freaking out?

It took the better amount of about ten minutes to get ready for the party in her own taste.

It took all of half a second for Thalia to reject it.

"Ha, no. I don't think so," she said as soon as Annabeth answered the door.

Frowning, she asked, "What's wrong with it?" She wore her favorite pair of blue jeans and a T-shirt.

Her best friend only laughed. "Are you going to a party, or heading down to Pizza Hut for the singles' special?"

"I don't look bad," Annabeth argued, crossing her arms. "Wait, a singles' special-"

Thalia rolled her eyes, pushing through the front door and dragging Annabeth up the stairs to her bedroom.

Over the next half hour, Annabeth found herself being poked and prodded at by her best friend's eager fingers. She could feel the make-up coated onto her face in heavy layers, and by the time Thalia was finished, Annabeth stood in a puny crop-top paired with cut-off denim shorts. Her belly button was exposed, as well as most of her legs.

After a peek at herself in the full length mirror, Annabeth couldn't stop the squeak that escaped her mouth. Someone could have easily mistaken her for a blonde, teenage _Pretty Woman_. Her eyes were made up in thick black liner and her lips were painted red, the soft blonde curls that textured her hair were flattened to fall down her back in straight locks.

"I look like a harlot..." Annabeth muttered to herself, poking the exposed flesh of her stomach with a cringe.

"You look hot," Thalia corrected with a grin. Annabeth knew there would be no way out of this now; Thalia was as stubborn as a mule when she wanted something. And in this case, it was Annabeth's virtue.

One lasting look into the mirror later, Annabeth was gritting her teeth and slipping on her shoes, deciding that the regretful part of the night had come a tad early.

* * *

Thalia's old sedan pulled into the driveway of a large house. She recognized the surname on the mailbox: _Stoll_. Connor and Travis were usually up to no good, and this definitely had not been the first party they'd ever thrown.

Kicking her converses against the pavement, she waited for Thalia to get out of the car before she made a move. Going in by herself was the least ideal situation, and actually socializing? She was still practicing perfectly crafted introductions in her head. Thalia threw her a wink as she slipped her elbow through Annabeth's and walked them to the door.

It was loud.

As expected. There were throngs of half-dressed boys and girls floating around the makeshift dance floor, bumping into each other and looking for new dance partners in the dark heat of the room. Which, in theory, should have made Annabeth more confident about her outfit, but really just had her feeling like she was about to become a statistic. She recognized a few old faces mixed in with an abundance of new ones, and it was a little weird to see the kids she grew up with humping each other like dogs in heat. The room was practically thrumming with the raging hormones of adolescent teens.

Thalia dragged her further into the house, making a pit-stop at what she deduced to be the kitchen and Annabeth had a feeling she knew where this was soon headed. "I'm not drinking, Thalia," she declared, fingers moving in attempt to stretch the fabric of her shorts to cover more skin.

There were a few people in the kitchen, mostly minding their own business and getting drinks. One girl glanced at Annabeth, turning away just as quickly. Rolling her eyes, the black-haired girl grabbed a shot of something that Connor Stoll was pouring at the island counter. "Thanks, Stoll," Thalia told him, shoving the tiny glass into Annabeth's hand.

"Let loose a little, would you? You're here to have fun! Prove to me that you're not a goody two shoes priss and drink this."

It might have been because her best friend had basically called her a dweeb, or the fact that, well, she had been _right _after all, but it seemed to have done it for Annabeth. She curved her hand around the little tubular glass and swallowed back the fear coating her throat.

It felt cold against her skin. The liquid inside was transparent and innocent looking enough, but Annabeth wasn't stupid. She knew that as soon as it travelled down her throat, all aspects of innocence would fly out the window. Bringing the cup to her lips, she tipped her head back and threw the fiery liquid down her throat. It sloshed and burned where it made contact and the feeling was intense and painful. She placed the glass down on the counter with an unpleasant cringe. "That was terrible," she complained, throat warm and eyes watery.

"That was vodka," Thalia corrected. "And you took it better than I thought you would. Let's see how long it takes for it to kick in."

* * *

Sometime around twenty minutes later, Annabeth could be found in the middle of the dance floor, swinging around in a sea of sweating bodies and moving limbs. People who knew her from school looked on at her with partly shocked, mildly impressed expressions. No one could believe that precious Annabeth Chase was actually _dancing_, let alone in the way that she was. Which was to say...uncharacteristic of her.

She was swaying her hips along to the music, meeting the waist of a boy to her left, then releasing herself to move solo again. Thalia watched on with a look of pride, but Annabeth couldn't be bothered. After her third shot of the cheap battery acid, she was feeling unlike herself. She couldn't remember the last time she had let herself have fun—or if she ever did.

Her inhibitions were low, but she couldn't find it in herself to offer a care to anyone. Which probably explained her lack of reluctance when the skeezy looking boy from her history class offered her something out of his pocket.

She watched over his shoulder as he dug around in his coat, retrieving a plastic bag filled with chalky, colorful tablets. "Are those Rolaids? I don't need 'em now, but maybe tomorrow-"

He laughed, slipping one into her hand and letting her study the foreign object. A little round pill, she noticed. Purple, smaller than a Rolaid. She vaguely remembered him referring to them as "beans."

Wracking her brain for what beans meant in street names, she gave up once she realized that she was too drunk to even care. All her intoxicated state could grasp at was that _this_—this little thing was going to destroy her tame image. And that was the only thing she could imagine wanting in that moment.

He had an array of colors in his bag. There were different shades of blues, pinks and greens. Some were white, and they all had little pictures inscribed in the middle of them. She turned her purple tab over in her hand. A little triangle was pressed into the center.

With it being her first time, he told her not to chew it, rather advising to swallow or let it dissolve under her tongue. He also said it tasted terrible, so she chose to place the small purple pill on her tongue, closing her eyes and tilting her head back. It rolled down her throat and the guy gave her a smile.

"Give it about thirty-so minutes to kick in."

* * *

By the time she hit minute sixteen, she was a goner.

Bouncing off the walls with renewed energy, her skin felt tingly and her senses were going into overdrive. She could hear _everything_. Colors stood out to her and she could feel her heart beating at what seemed like a million miles per hour.

At this moment, Annabeth Chase could understand why people got addicted to drugs, and the little practical part of her that was still somewhere inside her—uselessly pounding on the walls of her head—took note that she probably shouldn't experiment with this drug again, because it would be far too easy to get comfortable with.

It didn't take long for her to start dancing again and she was doing so in a revived fire. Her hair swished around as her dampened body moved fluidly to the music. She kissed some strangers. A few girls, maybe. She wasn't sure. The memories returned blurry.

As the song changed, someone bumped into her from behind, knocking her forward. She turned her head with the intent of letting out a loud complaint, but the words caught in her throat as she focused her dilated pupils on the culprit.

He was _really _cute.

With his messy black hair falling over what she could detect were ocean-colored eyes, and the slight pink flush of his cheeks, Annabeth's breath stalled a bit. When he looked at her and flashed a nervous, lopsided grin, her already pounding heart started to have a seizure in her chest.

"Hey, sorry about that," the boy yelled over the music. "You okay?"

"Yeah," she answered back at the same volume, hardly remembering what he was apologizing for.

But then, he was asking her to dance with that shy smile and she thought his flushed cheeks might have been caused from something other than the pressing heat of the room. "I love this song. Wanna dance?"

"Sure," she choked out, probably a little too fast.

His arms draped around her waist—a little awkwardly, but charming all the same—and he pulled her as close to him as he dared. If she thought the drug was doing something to make her skin tingly, this guy could have given it a run for its money.

Everywhere he touched seemed to burn like fire, and that was when she decided that this—dancing, flirting, experiencing things she'd never so much as _dreamed _of—was its own kind of drug. The nameless guy had to be working her even harder than the beans ever could. And she _wanted_ to be addicted to this. She wanted to overdose on letting herself have fun on a Friday night in a strange house surrounded by people doing the same. Her hands traveled up his arms, over his chest to behind his neck. His face was only inches apart from hers as their bodies moved to the drawling, acoustic song. The winding way they moved around each other felt coordinated, like their bodies knew the others' movement before they happened. In sync. Or maybe that was just the drugs telling her that.

The boy pulled her body closer than Annabeth expected and she could only breathe in his scent for a few moments. It was a salty sea breeze smell that drove her wild, but coupled with the odor of alcohol. For reasons she felt ashamed of, she was glad that he wasn't in his right state either. If she embarrassed herself, maybe he'd be too buzzed to remember the details.

He craned his head down to speak into her ear. "I just realized I never introduced myself," he said. "I'm Percy."

The accidental brush of his lips on her skin tickled, she felt a shiver run down her spine as she told him her own name.

"Annabeth?" he clarified. When she nodded, he offered another goofy smile. "That's a pretty name."

She blamed it on the drugs. Only the crude mixture of alcohol and a little purple pill could have given her the confidence to reach up on her tiptoes, hesitate for only a moment, and connect her lips to his.

What shocked her the most was that he kissed her back almost immediately. Like he was hoping she would—or thinking about doing it himself. His lips were soft and their taste was familiar—something her uncle had let her try at a family reunion a few years back. A cheap, oaky bourbon.

She didn't know if it was her state of intoxication that was making her heart jump painfully, her skin sear with feeling, and her mind race miles around her head, or if it was just the effect Percy had on her. She could hardly register the fact that she was kissing someone, a guy she'd only just learned the name of. It almost felt as if she was looking onto someone else doing the same things, instead of experiencing it first hand.

His tongue tentatively poked out to sweep across her bottom lip and she opened her mouth on instinct. Part of her was embarrassed, fearing she was acting too eager. But Percy didn't seem to mind and she took that as a go-ahead of sorts, letting out a breathy chuckle. She couldn't remember the last time she'd shared a kiss before tonight, and the fact made her cringe. An overwhelming feeling washed into her as she once again was made to realize how dull her life had become. Suddenly, she had an urge to rid herself of the memory, to oppose it so fiercely she wouldn't feel the same when she thought of it again.

So, in that moment, she made a decision. One she wouldn't want to take responsibility for in the morning. "You wanna go somewhere more...private?" She asked breathlessly. Her cheeks were probably pink, and these weird little electric currents danced over her skin.

His eyes widened and he countered with another question. "Are you serious? Wait—are you high?" He searched her face for the tell-tale signs of drug use, and knew that he must have seen it in her dilated pupils and heated pink skin.

She felt her heart drop to her feet as an icky feeling washed over her like a wave. He didn't want to do anything like _that _with her. Her hands dropped off of his shoulders and she stepped back. "Oh God..." she muttered, mortified. Embarrassment felt like downing an Ipecac smoothie.

As soon as she let go of him and he saw her expression, he matched her step and brought them together once again. "No! No. I didn't mean it the way you think." He grabbed one of her hands and squeezed it a little. "I didn't think you would actually want to... you know, with me. I don't mean to sound suggestive if that's not what you meant, but it sounded like... yeah. Of course I'd want to—I mean, who _wouldn't_?—but I usually don't do this kind of thing... And now I'm being awkward and rambling, I'm sorr-"

She cut him off with a relieved laugh. He seemed grateful at her intrusion. "Let's go," she mouthed, nodding toward the stairs.

This time he didn't question her. He grasped her small hand in his and led her up the stairs. Soon they found a door that didn't resist opening and the two stumbled in. Percy kicked it shut with his foot and locked the knob behind him.

He hesitated before reaching for Annabeth again, cheeks pink and jaw slack. The kiss he gave her was warm and had her toes curling in her beat-up converse. Somewhere buried deep inside of her, she felt an ache commence, one that wouldn't slow as he shakily pulled at the hem of his own shirt.

Clothes were then tossed and forgotten until their bodies were left bare and she felt like she was swimming—_drowning_ in the foreign feelings. Her eyes raked over his exposed form and she felt her heart jump at his crazy, mussed hair and the tiny smile gracing his lips. Their eyes met, and they laughed.

Percy's lips explored her like he had all the time in the world, but she could tell he was just as nervous as her, so she didn't mind the build up. He made a point in asking her if she wanted to stop more than a few times, and at some point, she decided to ask the same question back. He didn't; he admitted he'd never really done something like this—with a stranger—and he really didn't want to mess anything up. Annabeth felt something like relieved, hardly believing she was actually doing this, something she could never have expected, and loving that fact. There was this same pulling force between them—neither wanted to stop, not yet.

So when Percy had torn open a condom he found in the nightstand drawer and was positioned to enter her for the first time, asking again if she was still on board, her answer was to buck her hips against his, showing him what she wanted. He let out a sort of whine and met her lips again as he pushed into her.

It hurt a little, but the pain wasn't unbearable. It was nothing like people had said it was. She didn't cry, but she did grab his shoulders tightly, not letting go until she adjusted to the intrusion. And when she did adjust, he started rocking into her—all concerns she might have been faced with slipped from her mind as their bodies moved against one and other.

He moved a hand between them, rubbing dizzying circles to assure she was enjoying herself. Her mind buzzed as she pulled her own hand away from where it had been caressing his stubbled jaw that was clenched from the effort of holding himself together, in need of something to grip onto. Finding purchase in the loose sheets surrounding her, she let herself sink into the feelings that bombarded from all around.

Every time a noise escaped her mouth, one would leave his in retaliation. The feeling was different from anything she'd ever experienced, and she didn't know how to express it without letting out sounds, however embarrassed they made her feel. Percy's breathing was harsh as he plunged his face into the crook of her neck, speaking broken fragments of sentences quietly against her skin. She couldn't make out most what he was saying, but didn't particularly worry because she didn't think he was trying to be heard.

It didn't take long for her release to arrive; she held tightly onto Percy's arms that were boxed around her head, gripping him roughly while she let out a quieted moan. Her back arced upward, soft chest meeting his hard one, and she could feel his heart pounding just as fast as hers was. He began moving faster, a renewed effort, trying to catch up. Shortly after, she felt him let go, muttering broken curses against her lips.

When he came down from his high, he collapsed next to her, breathing heavily. Her stomach was twisting and turning with butterflies as she thought about what she had just done. What they had just done. He tugged her naked body around to meet her eyes, seeing for himself that she was okay. Although, he asked, too.

And it all just kind of hit her at once. She had sex. Lost her virginity. And she wasn't even sure if she'd remember it the coming morning. She nodded, smiling disbelievingly. "I'm good." And it was the truth.

She knew she had to be coming down from the drugs, because she was suddenly exhausted and couldn't concentrate on any one thought. So when he pulled her against his body, her back to his chest, she gave in.

She fell asleep in the boy's arms.

* * *

_The sun is really bright_ was Annabeth's first thought as she woke up Saturday morning. The second was _Whose arms...?_

Thick, male arms encircled her very exposed body. Last night hit her like speeding into a brick wall at seventy miles per hour. The force of memories that came back to her was so sudden, it made her already aching head throb.

Annabeth drank too much. Swallowed a strange pill. Lost her virginity and fell asleep next to a stranger.

Holy Shit was her third coherent thought.

Taking a deep breath, she carefully slid out of the boy's arms. He didn't wake, and for that she was grateful.

Percy was still unclothed as he lay on the bed in all his glory. She studied his bronzed skin; taut arms, yet soft stomach. The sheets tangled at his waist, she noticed thankfully, but didn't quite cover the trail of hair leading from his naval to the safety of the cotton. A stream of sunlight spilling in from between the cracks in the curtains hit him at just the right angle, illuminating his raven hair and long eyelashes. The latter of which cast sooty, elongated shadows across his cheeks that Annabeth had to glance away from before she decided it was time to fall back into his arms.

The remorse, she thought, wasn't as bad as it should have been. But there was something to be said about the justification of it all. She'd let a wrinkled image of her self-conscious delude her into thinking she needed to make poor choices to be an interesting person, and well, she thought maybe she should have given herself the night to think on it before she made any drastic decisions.

A small piece of her brain was willing to admit that she felt relieved, almost glad that she'd allowed herself a night without worry. Even if it was just for one night, she wasn't going to let herself regret something that she'd remember for the rest of her life.

She could live with herself after last night. She didn't hate Percy and more importantly, she didn't hate herself. She was okay.

Quietly, she dressed. The shorts rode up her butt and her arms felt cold under the scrappy coverage—she wondered how she let herself out of the house. Only able to run a hand through the tangled disaster that was her hair, Annabeth set out to find Thalia.

It took longer than it should have. But when she found her, Thalia was passed out in a lawn chair outside. The pool was littered with beer cans and different sets of lacy underwear, the whole backyard was a mess, but surprisingly her best friend looked worse.

Black make-up streamed down her face and her choppy hair was slicked up into different directions. It took several shakes and a bucket of contaminated pool water to wake up her best friend.

"Hey, asshole! Lights!" she yelled, which vaguely translated into "turn off the lights" and proved that she had no idea where she was. Throwing a fist in the air and narrowly missing Annabeth's nose, Thalia huffed.

"I would, but you're kind of outside, Thals," Annabeth told her, trying her best to fight the round of laughter she was feeling.

Thalia blinked drearily and looked around, appearing to have just realized she was passed out in the backyard of the Stoll's house. "Damn," the girl yawned, stretching her arms above her head. "Last night. You were one crazy son of a gun, Annabeth."

She blushed. Thalia didn't know the half of it. "C'mon, we have to go home. I'm kind of in a hurry, so let's try to get out of here before I'm old and gray."

Arching an eyebrow, the punk girl rubbed her eyes as she stood up unsteadily. "You were born old and gray, Annabeth. Why the rush?"

Okay, so maybe Annabeth was trying to leave before Percy woke up—she wasn't keen on having that awkward one-night-stand confrontation she'd always heard about. At the same time, she was hesitant to tell Thalia, because she wasn't sure what to think for herself. Was it something she should be ashamed of? Did it make her a bad person? She didn't know, but reasoned with herself that if there was any way to find out, it'd be her best bet to go to Thalia. She trusted her best friend.

"I kind of slept with someone last night, and I'd like to avoid whatever consequential awkwardness with him that includes. So if we could leave now—you know, _before _he wakes up—I would be eternally grateful." Annabeth rushed over her words, not entirely sure if Thalia heard her.

But she did. Thalia lost her footing and almost landed in the pool. If it hadn't been for Annabeth's surprisingly quick, post-hangover reflexes, Thalia would be swimming with the throngs of colorful cans and panties. "_What_?" she spluttered, looking wide-eyed at her friend.

Covering her face with her hands, she replied, "You heard me."

It was quiet for a moment. "Are you okay?"

The blonde was quick to snap her eyes back to her. She gave herself a moment to honestly answer the question. "I think so."

"Yikes, Annabeth. I'm so sorry." Thalia shook her head regretfully, seemingly not having heard her. "I totally pressured you last night. Not cool."

Sighing, Annabeth dropped her throbbing head onto her best friend's shoulder and steered her in the direction the driveway. "Hey, I'm not complaining yet. Let's just get home before my parents realize I never came back."

* * *

**This is the second version. I _do not_ care if you liked the first one better. After all the shit I've been given for this story, I'm not dealing with anyone's preferences but my own. All the chapters were taken down because I _do not_ tolerate faceless anons bullying me into writing for them. Maybe I'll write more chapters, maybe I won't.**

**For now: if you're going to leave a shitty review, check your grammar before you send it.**


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